


Trial By Moonlight

by sunstarunicorn



Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [27]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Full Moon, Gen, Race Against Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-13 15:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14751806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: As the latest magic-side hot call comes to a close, Jules and Lou escort four civilians to safety.  When all six vanish, Team One finds themselves in a race against time to locate their teammates…before the moon rises and their teammates’ lives are changed forever.





	1. Another Day, Another Call

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the twenty-seventh in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows most of "In the Paws of the Lion".
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.

Team One spread out in the field, each of them racing to their assigned search areas, choosing speed over stealth and caution. Even Sarge and Spike, normally left in the truck, were hurrying to their assigned grids, weapons up and ready. The team’s armor blended in with the night, giving them a slight measure of camouflage, but it was unlikely to protect them once the moon rose.

“No sign of them,” Wordy called from his grid, disappointment and frustration marking his transmission. “Moving to the next grid.”

“Nothing here, either,” Spike reported next. “We’ve got ten minutes left before moonrise.”

“Current search grid clear,” Ed announced, “I’m heading west from my position.”

“Copy that, Eddie,” Parker agreed, “I’ve hit the far west for my search grid, heading north.”

Seconds ticked by, marked by the negative reports coming in from all members of the team. “Come on, guys, we got to find them,” Sam cried, his frustration slipping its leash.

“We’re looking, Samtastic,” Spike bit back, just as frustrated. “I don’t see you coming up with any leads here.”

“Easy, guys,” Sarge intervened, “We’re not going to find them by ripping each other to shreds. Keep your weapons ready, pretty soon we’re going to have company.”

The reminder brought a few uncharacteristic phrases from his team, but the Sergeant understood. He shook his head and kept searching, pushing hard at his ‘team sense’, wishing bitterly that his missing teammates hadn’t been hidden by wards…again.

Ed approached a ramshackle building near the northwest corner of the field, gun up and his eyes on the move. Wind whistled past the building, sounding an eerie spine-chilling howl as it went. The constable shuddered, darting another look around before he put his shoulder to the building’s decrepit door.

It gave so quickly that Ed all but fell into the room, drawing immediate attention from right below him. “Ed!” Jules cried, the relief in her voice obvious.

As Ed caught his balance, Lou quipped, rather weakly, “What took you so long?”

“Wards,” Ed growled, swinging himself down to his teammates and glaring at the chains they were bound with. “Just like when Sam and Spike went missing,” he added, drawing looks of comprehension from the pair. The team leader crouched, his eyes narrowing as he realized the chains had no locks on them; instead the ends were magically fused together. “Sarge, I found ‘em; let’s get out of here,” he called on the radio.

A wolf’s howl echoed around them, drowning out any reply from the rest of the team.

* * * * *

_7 hours earlier_

“Okay, Jules, Lou, get these people out of here,” Ed ordered from his position behind Wordy and the Sarge. Their subject had finally agreed to let four of his hostages go, after what felt like hours of negotiating and ‘testing’ by their subject of the four he’d just released. The team leader rolled his shoulders just a bit, letting out some of the built up tension, and resettled his weapon, keeping it aimed at their subject, a shaggy looking man who was a self-proclaimed ‘werewolf hunter’.

“Copy,” Lou acknowledged; he and Jules shepherded the four former hostages away to be debriefed and turned over to the on-scene patrol Aurors.

The rest of the team stayed focused on their subject and his remaining six hostages. With no records for _any_ of room’s occupants – subject and hostages – tech-side and pitifully few magic-side, Spike was in the field, backed up by Roy and Onasi at the opposite entrance to their subject’s hideaway. Sam was the only member of the team not in sight; he’d found a Sierra shot a bit further up, perched above and out of sight of the subject.

The subject ignored Sarge’s quiet, yet sincere thanks for letting the four released hostages go; he was examining his remaining hostages, an intensity in his eyes and movements that made Ed a bit wary…their ‘werewolf hunter’ moved like someone who’d had training, who knew exactly what he could do and how he could do it.

“Sir, I think it’s important that we keep talking,” Greg called, no hint of the frustration they were all feeling in his voice. “Maybe if you could explain why you think these people are werewolves?”

Silver eyes came up, focusing on Greg with the merest hint of interest. “You still wish to talk?” he inquired, a smoothness to his tone and a curious lilt to his voice. “I gave you the innocent ones…the ones who are not wolves; now leave me be, to do what I must.”

“And how do you know that you do, in fact, have werewolves in here?” Greg countered, his voice intense. “How do you know that these people are a threat?”

The werewolf hunter waved a negligent hand. “It is evident to me that they are,” he claimed, “I have hunted their ilk for decades; I have no need to explain myself to you and yours, Auror Sergeant Parker.”

“No one has to get hurt here today,” the Sarge argued back. “You let those people go because they were innocent; what if _these_ people are innocent as well?”

Something flashed in the hunter’s eyes. “Innocent?” he mused thoughtfully. “An interesting choice of words, Auror Sergeant Parker; so _few_ people are _truly_ innocent.” He paced back and forth, examining his hostages, his wand raised enough that none of Team One could risk moving and endangering his captives. Curiously, the hunter also trailed his eyes over Team One, an intent expression on his face as he looked at them. Abruptly, he turned, letting the cloak he wore flare a bit in the turn, and announced, “Very well, Auror Sergeant Parker; I will prove my words, if you will permit it.”

“And how will you do that?” Greg asked cautiously.

“In two stages, though I will need to use my wand,” the hunter replied, with a grand gesture, like a showman on a stage. “A simple _Lumos_ charm, on my honor.”

Team One traded looks and a few head tilts, but it was Sergeant Parker who finally replied, “Go ahead, sir.” Softly, he added to his team, “If he uses anything else, move in.”

But the hunter was true to his word. “ _Lumos_ ,” he called, his wand lighting up. He shifted the wand over the closest of his hostages. “Observe, if you will, Auror Sergeant Parker, the premature graying of our friend here.” The man, who did have graying hair, glared at his captor, but said nothing in his own defense. The wand was moved lower, illuminating a nasty looking scar right at the man’s neck. “And here, sir, what was likely the initial bite from another werewolf. The scars from a werewolf attack do not fade as other scars do; even many years after the initial attack, the scars often look as fresh as the day they were first inflicted.”

The first man was ushered by his captor to the side and a woman pulled close enough for Team One to see. “Again,” the hunter lectured, his wand close enough to light up the graying blonde hair of the frightened woman. “We have here an excellent example of the premature graying common to so many of the wolves in our society.” The hunter gripped the woman turning her and tugging her shirt down enough so that his wand lit up a scar right on her shoulder. “Alas, this bite likely interferes with this young lady’s mobility, reducing her ability to handle everyday tasks that you and I would find effortless.”

One by one, the remaining hostages were moved close to Team One so their captor could lecture on their ‘obvious’ werewolf traits. None of them fought the treatment and all of them looked ashamed as their scars were put on display. Ed, in his position, noticed something else: the hunter was watching Greg almost more than he was watching his hostages.

“Boss, he’s watching you,” Ed warned, “Not sure what he wants, but he’s up to something.”

The slightest nod told him that Sarge had heard him, but other than that, Sarge didn’t even twitch. He listened to the lecture gravely, his expression sympathetic as the werewolves were all but paraded past. The Sergeant attempted to briefly meet the eyes of the hostages, but none of them would even _look_ at him.

“Ed,” Sam hissed from his spot above, “Have Lou and Jules come back yet?”

Ed blinked, a frown crossing his face. No, they hadn’t and they should have been back by now. The team leader shifted back, just a bit, and scanned for his two teammates. “Spike?” he questioned, flicking his eyes towards the tech. The building’s construction was interfering with the usual range of their radios, a fact they’d discovered when Spike had tried to report on his progress – or lack thereof – in pulling records on their subject and his hostages.

“They didn’t come up this way,” Spike reported at once, “Just me, Giles, and Roy over here.”

“Is something amiss, Auror Sergeant Parker?” the werewolf hunter queried politely; Ed swore to himself, how the heck had their subject figured out something was wrong so fast?

Greg, to his credit, didn’t miss a beat. “Nothing that you need to be concerned about, sir.” He paused, considering a moment. “You make a very persuasive case that your hostages are werewolves, but how do you know they’re a threat, sir?”

The hunter reared back. “They are _werewolves_ ,” he argued. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Sir,” Sarge replied earnestly, “If you have evidence that these people have committed crimes, that evidence needs to be turned over to our division to be investigated. But taking the law into your own hands like this doesn’t help anyone, least of all the innocent people you’re trying to protect.”

The werewolf hunter examined the negotiator, a cunning and satisfied look in his eyes. “An interesting counterargument, Auror Sergeant Parker. As it happens, I do have evidence; shall I give it to you?”

“I’m willing to look at any evidence you have, sir, once these people are released from your custody,” Greg promised.

The hunter shrugged, ever so briefly, and tossed down his wand. “I will hold you to that, Auror Sergeant Parker.”

* * * * *

The six former hostages were politely asked to remain after Giles got his first look at the hunter’s evidence, but Sam had other things on his mind. The sniper frowned as he returned from talking to the patrol Aurors and a quick check of the building.

“Spike,” he called, waving the bomb tech over, “Could you run a quick search for either Lou or Jules’ phones? I can’t find them and the patrol Aurors say they never got the four hostages the subject released.”

“You got it,” Spike agreed, darting off to the Command Truck.

Sam looked back at the building and sighed to himself. The building was one of the few the team had run across that interfered with their radios. Oh, the radios still worked, if you were in close enough proximity, but Team One’s radios hadn’t been able to cover even a tenth of their normal range inside the old, magic-saturated building. Sam suspected the only reason they’d worked as well as they _had_ was because they’d traded up for runic radios after Wordy’s EMP-proof radio had been blown out by Anderson, the no-good rat. With another sigh, Sam trekked over to the Command Truck himself and swung up into it.

“Sam?” Spike questioned from his spot at his computer, sounding unnerved.

“You find them?”

Spike shook his head. “Both their phones are being blocked…and I mean, blocked like mine was when we got kidnapped.”

Sam froze, fear racing up his spine. “You can’t find them?”

“No, and if what Lou told me is right, Sarge won’t be able to find them either,” Spike reported grimly. The tech reached down, keying his radio, “Sarge, could you take a minute to see if you can find Lou and Jules?”

His unnerved tone was enough to keep their Sergeant from protesting; Sarge _hated_ to use his ‘team sense’ like that, even on-duty. After a minute, Sarge came on the comm, “Spike, their phones?”

“Blocked,” Spike replied at once. “I’ll keep trying.”

“Okay, let me know if you get anything from their phones or their radios,” Sarge ordered crisply. “Eddie, Wordy, see if you can figure out where they disappeared and let’s see if we can find pictures of our missing hostages, too. Sam, talk to our former hostages, see if they know anything about the four who were with Jules and Lou. I’ll let Giles and Roy know and then see if our _friendly_ ‘werewolf hunter’ has anything to say.”

Sam and Spike traded looks; Sarge had just gone on the warpath and Lord help anyone who got in his way right now.


	2. Missing Pup

Ed and Wordy hit the building at a full run, racing along the route Lou and Jules _should_ have taken; they found what they were looking for in short order: a corner out of sight of the patrol Aurors _and_ the room their werewolf hunter had holed up in, with marks and nicks on the wall, two nearby boxes knocked over, their contents spilling out, and a lone, lonely radio lying in plain view. “We got something, Sarge,” Wordy called, crouching to get a better look at the radio. His jaw tightened at the sight of two tiny initials scratched into the radio…LY. “Lou’s radio, looks like it got ripped off his belt,” the husky constable continued grimly.

“Signs of a struggle,” Ed agreed, examining the area, his expression tight with anger. “Perfect spot for an ambush; out of sight, just out of radio range…” Ed trailed off and knelt next to the wall, his eyes narrowing. “We’ve got blood; no way to tell if it’s one of the subject’s or if it’s either Jules or Lou.”

“Okay,” Sarge acknowledged, “Spike, tell Giles and Roy to get in there, see if Giles can figure out who’s hurt. Sam, anything from our former hostages?”

* * * * *

Sam scowled as he stalked away from the unhelpful witnesses. “All of them are saying they don’t know who those four were. I don’t buy it, but no way to prove otherwise.”

“I hear you,” the Boss replied, his own frustration showing.

“At least they aren’t going anywhere,” Sam observed, “Whatever that hunter had must have been good; Giles told the patrol Aurors not to let those six out of their sight unless they wanted to be reassigned to McKean for guard duty.”

Spike came on the comm next. “Giles and Roy are on their way, Sarge; Giles suggested asking if the hunter knows anything…I think he might know something we don’t about this guy.”

Sarge nodded thoughtfully to himself as Sam joined him. It _had_ been a bit odd, the way Onasi had so quickly asserted that there were no records about the hunter and the whole team had noticed the hunter’s unusual behavior with his captives; he’d been more sympathetic towards them than hostile, regardless of any of his claims to the contrary. Almost like a man doing his job, despite his personal feelings.

Sergeant and constable moved to where the patrol Aurors had their werewolf hunter detained; the man inclined his head respectfully as they approached. “Auror Sergeant Parker,” he greeted, “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Possibly,” Sarge granted. “What can you tell me about the four individuals you released first? Anything you can remember about them?”

The man frowned to himself, thinking over the question. Silver eyes darkened a shade as he mused and considered. Shaggy white hair fell into his eyes and he tossed his head just a bit to dislodge the errant locks. “I examined them closely,” he began at last, “And they did not appear to be wolves, but I respected their wish that I not disrobe them…perhaps a mistake on my part, now that I consider the matter.”

“Did they know the other hostages?” Sarge pressed.

The man stilled, his eyes coming up to meet them. “Yes, they did…all of them appeared to know each other by name; they trusted each other as well. That is not something that happens overnight, as you know.” Sarge nodded at that. “If they are now _denying_ knowing the others, then I may have made a grave mistake, greater than I think you know.”

* * * * *

At the hunter’s request, seconded by Onasi, the team made tracks back to SRU Headquarters, instead of Auror Division Headquarters. Greg’s suspicion, that the hunter _was_ known to the Auror Division and was far more important than he was portraying himself as, took a jog upwards, but he was more concerned for his missing teammates.

Once in the briefing room, Greg reluctantly turned the floor over to their former subject, who inclined his head to all of them before beginning. “I have, in my years, had the opportunity to make a great many contacts in the werewolf community. They respect me for ensuring that the criminals of their kind are properly dealt with and I respect them for overcoming their natural tendencies to become productive members of society.

“In recent times, I have been given the privilege of being introduced to the heads of the packs here in Toronto. The closest pack to this location is the North York pack and I have the address for their pack leaders. I am willing to give you the address, on the condition that I come along…‘tis unlikely that they will even speak to you without an introduction from one they trust, such as myself. If any can help you locate your missing teammates before moonrise, it will be the pack leaders.”

“And why should we trust you?” Ed challenged; ignoring the appalled look on Giles’ face.

The hunter’s expression was grave and his words blunt. “You will trust me because you have no choice, Auror Lane. My information is the _only_ way you can save your friends.”

* * * * *

The home was a one-story affair in an area of Toronto that traditionally housed poor families…poor _tech_ families. The hunter, to the irritation of everyone save Sarge and Giles, was permitted to take the lead in approaching the house and knocking on the door. He knocked once, then twice more, then once again. After a few seconds, the door cracked open and a weathered, care-worn woman peeked out, her eyes widening at the sight of the hunter and Team One. She pushed the door open just enough to let them in.

“Inside, quickly, please,” she requested, her voice breathy and raspy. Team One flowed in, examining the interior of the home curiously. It was neat and well-kept, with everything in order and as clean as could be expected. The woman, with graying brown hair that hung limply into her eyes, bore a number of scars on her face, shoulders, and arms. Her dark brown eyes were openly wary and darted between the hunter and Team One, tension ratcheting up with every moment.

“Jo-Ann, it is delightful to see you again,” the hunter greeted the woman, smiling broadly, “How have you and your pack fared these past few months?”

“We have fared as we always have,” Jo-Ann replied, her eyes and voice warming a touch. “We survive, despite all that life throws at us.” Nervous tension flowed back into her eyes. “It is good that you come today, old friend. Our daughter, she went missing last night.”

“Missing?” Sarge interjected, his expression concerned, his voice gentle.

Jo-Ann went defensive despite the gentle tone. “She is a good girl, a good daughter. She was playing with her friends down the street…” The woman ducked her head, a soft whine coming from her.

The hunter placed his hands on the worried woman’s shoulders. “She went missing…is there anything else you know, Jo-Ann?”

“My mate, Josiah, he is checking with her friends, our packmates, but so far, nothing,” Jo-Ann explained. “It is as if she vanished into thin air!”

Parker opened up his black binder, flipping to a fresh page and checking his pen ever so briefly. “Ma’am, could you describe your daughter?”

The werewolf blinked, rearing back in confusion an instant, then she registered that Parker, far from dismissing her, was treating her like any other worried parent. After a moment, she stammered out, “Alysie, she is five years old, with blonde hair in two pigtails and gray eyes.” A sniffle. “We only just took her in; her family turned her out after Fenris Ulf bit her two moons ago.”

“Ulf?” Giles demanded sharply, before Parker could speak, “He’s here in Toronto?”

A nervous nod. “After Fenrir Grayback died, Fenris took over his pack; he is as savage as his sire and he loathes wizards for their ‘betrayal’ of his sire. He views wizards as good only for turning and Muggles as…” the woman trailed off, blanching, then she whispered, “Muggles he sees as little more than food.” Tears trickled from her eyes. “Alysie’s family, they took her to be treated, but they would not keep her…not with Fenris as her sire.” A brief sniffle. “Her nanny, she brought Alysie to me, asking if I knew of a place for an orphan werewolf pup.”

“And you took her in?” Parker questioned, keeping his voice and expression as gentle as possible. When Jo-Ann nodded, he continued his questioning. “Has this Fenris Ulf made any attempts to take her from you?”

A fierce look from Jo-Ann met the question. “He tried,” she replied harshly. “He claimed that as her sire, he had first right to her, but we rebuffed him; it has been _centuries_ since any wolf could lay such a claim on their victims.” Jo-Ann’s face and voice turned cold. “Ulf forgets himself; my mate and I have been pack leaders since before his misbegotten sire bit him, during the Second War. He and his have no claim on _my_ daughter.”

“I hear you, ma’am, she’s your daughter and you want to protect her,” Parker soothed as best he could. He leaned forward, meeting her eyes with no hint of fear in his own. “We’re going to do all we can to get your daughter back to you safely.”

He drew a deep breath to continue, but the hunter overrode him. “Jo-Ann, if neutral ground can be agreed upon, will you and Josiah call the other pack leaders?”

Jo-Ann’s eyes turned wary once again. “For you, old friend, but you know as well as I do that we wolves are not safe if we gather in the open. Where would you propose we meet?”

The hunter smiled, though there was an edge to his smile that left Team One just as wary as the lady werewolf. “Why, the Strategic Response Unit Headquarters, of course, Jo-Ann.” He beamed at Jo-Ann as, in the background, Team One traded incredulous looks that a _subject_ had just volunteered _their_ headquarters as a neutral meeting ground for the werewolf pack leaders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In RL news...I'm still waiting. And praying that I don't get told to get my tail to Texas by Thursday. Lord Willing, I'll get until the 7th, but having things up in the air like this really, really stinks.
> 
> Please pray that I get more information and news soon, so I can start making concrete plans, though I also want prayer that my onboarding will _not_ be the 31st.
> 
> Thanks a trillion for your reviews, support, and prayers ya'll.


	3. The Packs of Toronto

Jo-Ann was as good as her word; by the time Team One had returned to SRU Headquarters, the parking lot had several older, battered cars parked there and Winnie was playing hostess to a group of threadbare, careworn men and women inside the station. The hunter, as opposed to taking the lead, all but faded into the background, letting Sergeant Parker take the lead. Parker guided the wary group into the briefing room, carefully judging the werewolves and grouping his team in one area, instead of placing them around the room and possibly alarming the weres.

“All right, welcome to the Strategic Response Unit’s headquarters, ladies and gentlemen. Perhaps you could all introduce yourselves so we all know who you are?”

Jo-Ann let out a sound that was a bit like an amused yip. “I am Jo-Ann, Alpha female of the North York pack,” she began.

Her mate, who’d returned to their home after a quick phone call and accompanied the impromptu caravan to SRU Headquarters, took up the baton. “Josiah, Alpha male of the North York pack,” he rumbled. He had a thick, full beard and mustache, all of it going gray and a head of hair that was already gray, even as it grew like a mane around his face. Dark blue eyes flashed under thick brows and he was even stockier than Parker.

A slim, blonde, gray-eyed woman allowed a brief flash of teeth before declaring, “Deija, of the Scarborough pack.”

Next to her, squat and wide, with thick, curly hair, her brunet mate announced, “Danik, also of the Scarborough pack.” His expression was a bit impatient and he tossed a glare at Josiah.

The last two, both well-built with matching dark hair and eyes, traded looks before the man leaned forward. “I am Seward and this is my wife, Lindy. We lead the Etobicoke pack.”

Parker nodded respectfully to the pack leaders. “I guess that makes it our turn,” he quipped briefly. “I’m Sergeant Gregory Parker of the Police Strategic Response Unit.” The rest of his team, as well as Roy and Giles, introduced themselves, earning polite nods from the werewolves.

Jo-Ann looked curious as to why a group of ‘Muggle’ cops knew about magic, but restrained her questions.

With a brief pause to formulate his plan, Parker explained, “We currently have three missing individuals: Alysie, a minor who belongs to the North York pack, and two members of my team, Constable Jules Callaghan and Constable Lewis Young. Alysie, according to her parents, disappeared last night; my constables disappeared two hours ago during a magic-side call.”

Deija arched a brow, inquiring, “And why is this a matter for the packs?”

Onasi started to shift forward, an indignant look on his face, when Parker lifted his hand, forestalling the Auror’s interjection. “We also have information that Fenris Ulf is here in Toronto and has been here for at least two months.” Parker’s expression hardened. “Although we don’t know for sure that Constables Callaghan and Young were snatched by werewolves, considering the full moon tonight, we’re asking for your cooperation to locate all three.”

Seward rumbled, his expression displeased. “My pack has heard rumors,” he growled. “Whispers of a pack seeking new members, regardless of the…consequences…to our own packs.” His growl grew deeper. “We reported the rumors, but were dismissed.”

“We heard much the same,” Danik observed, his eyes thoughtful. “But one of my pack came to me only three nights ago with another whisper.” He allowed a deep growl of his own. “A pack, seeking malcontents to aid in an attack of some sort during the full moon tonight.”

“Any idea where?” Wordy asked, expression worried.

Deija’s eyes narrowed when Parker didn’t say anything to Wordy for speaking ‘out of turn’. “You permit your pack to speak as they please?”

Parker gave it right back, meeting her eyes without a qualm. “My team is not a pack, ma’am. I imagine you would object if I tried to characterize your pack as anything _other_ than a pack, so please don’t shoe-horn my _team_ into _your_ view of how groups work. If a member of my team has a question or an observation, they have my permission to speak; that’s how _my team_ works.”

The Alpha female of the Scarborough pack lifted one lip in a silent snarl, trying to dominate someone she saw as weaker, lesser, but Parker refused to back down, meeting her snarl with a calm expression. The contest of wills hung for close to minute before Deija abruptly pulled back, bowing her head in a show of submission. “My Beta came to me this morning,” she admitted, “Pleading with me to intervene in a dispute; two of our females wished to join in the planned attack. I disciplined them and demanded they tell me of this outrageous attack. It is to be on the British Embassy, in retaliation for Britain’s slaying of Fenrir Grayback and the continuing discrimination against our kind.” Her eyes flashed. “The females have been…educated in why such an attack is unacceptable.”

“Which British Embassy?” Roy questioned.

Josiah growled. “Even rogues would not be so _stupid_ as to attack the Muggle British Embassy. It _must_ be the magical British Embassy; to do otherwise would put them afoul of the Statute of Secrecy.” His attention turned to Parker. “I know of a place, far from both magical and Muggle communities where wolves can range without fear. Deep in the country, any humans would have nowhere to run as the moon rises.”

“Perfect for a forced conversion,” Ed concluded, his expression just as grim as his voice.

“A wild hunt,” Josiah corrected, “Such as we have not seen in many, many years.” His eyes darkened. “They will likely pen or cage their targets, particularly since they hunt for new members, not for sport as would have been the case in times past.”

“You got an address?” Spike inquired hopefully, his expression one of forced optimism.

“If you have a map, I can pick it out,” Josiah replied.

Spike nodded and vanished to get his laptop out of the Command Truck. When he came back, he and Josiah hunched over the laptop, checking over the maps of the country surrounding Toronto as quickly as they could.

The other werewolves took the opportunity to give Parker as many details about both plots as they could; Deija in particular was quite helpful after Parker’s successful stare down. Parker drew Onasi closer to the group, studying the Auror closely. “You’re worried about something. What’s on your mind?”

Giles paced away from the group, then back, his expression hardening as he thought. “Look, Parker, the truth is, most people _still_ don’t believe that you lot aren’t magical…”

He was cut off by a gasp from Jo-Ann. “That is true?” she demanded, “You and yours do not have magic?”

“No, we don’t,” Greg confirmed, confused by the horrified look on her face and the matching horrified looks from the other werewolves.

She sat down, hard, in one of the briefing room chairs, going paler by the second. “Merlin’s beard, they will kill us all,” she whimpered. Looking up at the confused Team One, she explained, “Muggles rarely survive if they encounter a werewolf; one in perhaps a hundred can survive our bite. They do not have enough magic to become a werewolf and so the infection kills them, despite any healing they might receive afterwards.”

Giles took over. “To bite an Auror, intentionally or not, is an automatic death sentence for the werewolf who does the bite. If they bite Aurors Callaghan and Young after _kidnapping_ them for the _express_ purpose of turning them and they _die_ …” His eyes went dark. “The Auror Division would probably kill the whole pack in retaliation…and they might even expect Team One to lead the charge.”

“Revenge is not our job,” Greg pointed out, though that was easy enough to _say_ …he wasn’t so sure it would be that easy if Jules and Lou died.

“I know that and you know that,” Giles agreed, “But it wouldn’t matter. It would be an example, a message to all the _other_ werewolf packs, even though they’re helping us right now.” He drew in a breath. “Look, I…”

“We,” Roy corrected from the side.

“… _we_ need to get this information to Madame Locksley as fast as possible. We’ll handle the werewolf attack, you just get your people out alive.”

“Boss, we got it,” Spike called. “It’s a field right in the northeast corner of North York and it straddles the line between North York and Scarborough. Looks like they’re trying to use the North York and the Scarborough pack territories as cover.”

“Okay,” Sergeant Parker acknowledged crisply. “Giles, you and Roy head for the Auror Division and report the attack.” They nodded. “Team One, we’ll head for this field and get Jules and Lou back.” He checked the clock, frowning. “Giles, take our friend here with you,” he gestured to the werewolf hunter, “And while I appreciate all of you helping our investigation, I’m sure you need to get home before the sun sets.”

The werewolves inclined their heads in agreement. “Thank you for listening to us, Sergeant Parker,” Danik rumbled. “We will keep our eyes open for anything else of use. If we hear anything further before sunset, we will contact you.” The six werewolves departed, speaking quietly with each other as they left.

Parker watched them go for a second, then turned back. “Team One, hit the locker room, change into the armor, and be back here in five. Spike, once you’re changed, pull up an aerial view of the field. We need to be ready to move as soon as we get there, so we’d better plan our strategy now.” He checked the clock again, frowning. “We have four hours before sunset and…twenty-three minutes after sunset before the moon rises.”

“Right,” Ed agreed, “We got to get in there, find Jules and Lou, and be out of there before moonrise.” The team leader hesitated, then, with a sigh, ordered, “And break out the silver bullet magazines, team. We’re going to need them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally got details for my onboarding. Unfortunately, they threw some plans my family had already made into disarray, but we'll manage. We've got time to figure stuff out and at least now I've got more details.


	4. Race Against the Wild Hunt

Team One’s trucks wailed as they flew through the streets and onto the highway heading north. Search grids were assigned and the team was ready to hit the ground running once they arrived at their destination. Their sirens pulled double duty as they flew, clearing traffic and giving Team One a built in excuse for bulling their way through rush hour. Still, the usual evening rush hour delayed them, turning what should have been an hour’s trip into an grueling near two hour trip.

Ed, in the lead truck, growled as another idiotic and clearly _deaf_ driver pulled into his path, trying to take advantage of the clear lane – clear because most of the _other_ drivers weren’t stupid enough to get in Team One’s way. He slammed down on the horn, expressing his displeasure as he swung around the Idiot and onto the shoulder. The annoyed team leader made a point to swerve back into the traffic lane as close to the Idiot as possible.

“Easy, Eddie, let’s not have an accident trying to get there,” Greg chided from the passenger seat. “We have time.”

“Not a whole lot, Boss,” Ed countered, stepping down on his accelerator again. “You heard those werewolves…if Jules and Lou get bitten…”

“Let’s not borrow trouble, Ed,” Greg interrupted sharply, betraying his own concern for their missing teammates. His attention shifted to the radio. “Okay, team, I know everyone is sick of this by now, but let’s go over this one more time. When we get there, everyone checks weapons – both tech and magic – and heads straight for their assigned search grid.”

“Fast is good,” Ed remarked, drawing a nod from his boss.

“Fast is good, but don’t go so fast that you miss something. Now, if at any time, I get a lock on where Jules and Lou are, I’ll report it…”

“And then we all converge on you,” Sam finished, the faintest edge of exasperation in his voice with what felt like the umpteenth rehash of the plan.

“Once we find Lou and Jules, fall back to the trucks,” Ed ordered grimly. “Nobody opens any doors once we’re back in the trucks; lock ‘em and keep ‘em locked.”

“Spike, how are we doing on time?” Greg asked.

Their tech was silent a second. “We got one hour, ten minutes until sunset, one hour, thirty-three minutes until moonrise.”

Ed slammed on his horn again, skidding around another driver looking to duck into _Team One’s_ lane and stepped even harder on the accelerator. The other trucks followed.

* * * * *

Team One slid out of the trucks, checking their guns and settling swords in place; their Narnian armor blending into the deepening dusk around them. Not a single word was exchanged as they finished their gear check and vanished into the field, searching for their teammates.

The closest grids were checked over by either Sarge or Team One members on their way past to other grids. Ed and Wordy took advantage of their height and speed to head for the further parts of the field. Sam and Spike split the middle area of the field between them, starting in the center and working outwards. Greg took the section closest to their trucks; his team insisted that he was the slowest runner, something he might have taken offense at if they hadn’t sounded so worried when they said it.

“Southeast corner clear,” he reported. “Moving west to the next grid.”

“Center-east and center-west clear,” Spike called in next, “Samtastic and I are splitting up.”

Behind the team, the sun began to sink below the horizon, prompting a call from Sam. “Ten minutes to sunset, guys.”

“Copy,” Ed acknowledged, “I’ve hit center-west on the north border, moving west from here.”

“Center-east on the north border, clear,” Wordy reported in, a beat behind his best friend. “Moving east.”

Minutes ticked by, littered with reports, but no sign of their teammates. The sun finished its sink below the horizon, the light winking out. Flashlights, already on, became the only source of light for the searchers.

“No sign of them,” Wordy called from his grid, disappointment and frustration marking his transmission. “Moving to the next grid.”

“Nothing here, either,” Spike reported next. “We’ve got ten minutes left before moonrise.”

“Current search grid clear,” Ed announced, “I’m heading west from my position.”

“Copy that, Eddie,” Parker agreed, “I’ve hit the far west for my search grid, heading north.”

The clock ticked on, each second another nail in two coffins, marked by the negative reports coming in from all members of the team. “Come on, guys, we got to find them,” Sam cried, his frustration slipping its leash.

“We’re looking, Samtastic,” Spike bit back, just as frustrated. “I don’t see you coming up with any leads here.”

“Easy, guys,” Sarge intervened, “We’re not going to find them by ripping each other to shreds. Keep your weapons ready, pretty soon we’re going to have company.”

The reminder brought a few uncharacteristic phrases from his team, but the Sergeant understood. He shook his head and kept searching, pushing hard at his ‘team sense’, wishing bitterly that his missing teammates hadn’t been hidden by wards…again.

* * * * *

Ed approached a ramshackle building near the northwest corner of the field, gun up and his eyes on the move. Wind whistled past the building, sounding an eerie spine-chilling howl as it went. The constable shuddered, darting another look around before he put his shoulder to the building’s decrepit door.

It gave so quickly that Ed all but fell into the room, drawing immediate attention from right below him. “Ed!” Jules cried, the relief in her voice obvious.

As Ed caught his balance, Lou quipped, rather weakly, “What took you so long?” The tan-skinned constable had a nasty looking gash on his shoulder, though, fortunately, the blood looked as if it had dried.

“Wards,” Ed growled, swinging himself down to his teammates and glaring at the chains they were bound with. “Just like when Sam and Spike went missing,” he added, drawing looks of comprehension from the pair. The team leader crouched, his eyes narrowing as he realized the chains had no locks on them; instead the ends were magically fused together. “Sarge, I found ‘em; let’s get out of here,” he called on the radio.

A wolf’s howl echoed around them, drowning out any reply from the rest of the team. Ed swore, yanking his sword from its sheath and bringing it down on the chains with a roar. The chains, though reinforced, didn’t stand a chance as Ed’s sword blazed yellow on its way down. His vambraces, too, glowed yellow in the darkness, giving an extra flare as the sword impacted the chains; they shattered, their power broken by the Narnian-forged blade, and sparks flew from the force of impact.

Jules hauled Lou up, well aware that Ed had the only weapons between the three of them. The trio scrambled out of the pit the two constables had been chained in and out the broken door as a low growl came from behind them. Ed, in the back, turned and swiped at the oncoming werewolf with his sword, trying to deter the wild animal. The werewolf, sensing the sword’s magic, fell back a moment.

“Contact, contact,” Wordy yelled over the comm, a gunshot puncturing his report.

“Two of ‘em here,” Spike panted, his own weapon’s report shattering the night.

Ed pushed Jules and Lou ahead of him. “We’re clear, get to the trucks!” A snarl made him turn and his eyes widened as the werewolf started to pounce. His sword fell to the ground and he grabbed his submachine gun on its strap around his chest; firing almost before he brought it to bear.

The werewolf howled in agony as the bullets ripped into it; Jules’ scream cut the night and Ed whirled, weapon still up. A werewolf was leaping at his teammates, its eyes gleaming with triumph. The team leader fired, bringing the wolf down with centimeters to spare. Ed snatched up his sword in his left hand and raced forward to help Jules lift Lou. The trio barreled through the field, gunshots ringing out around them, reports flowing in over the comm as they ran for the trucks.

At the trucks, Ed took the burden of lifting Lou into the passenger seat of the lead truck, grimacing as he realized the Sarge wasn’t back yet. Jules scrambled around to the other side and into the back seat, rightly assuming that Ed would want to drive.

Wordy broke free from the field a second after Lou was settled, his eyes wide and his stride eating up the distance to the second truck. Sam and Spike were on his heels, their own weapons in hand.

“Where’s the Sarge?” Ed barked.

“Here,” the Sarge called, appearing from close by, his expression shaken. “Anyone see a pup out there?”

Trust the Sarge to be thinking of the third kidnap victim at a time like this. Ed shook his head, mirrored by his teammates. “You?” Sam asked, slowing his pace just a bit, before stiffening and whipping around. A werewolf burst through the brush, snarling in fury at its prey escaping. The sniper squeezed the trigger, but his gun clicked. Sam’s eyes widened in fear; the werewolf pounced.

Wordy was turning, yanking his own gun up, but Ed, from his spot, could see it would be too late. Then someone rammed into Sam from the side; the werewolf’s target vanished and it landed just past where Sam had been standing. Wordy aimed and pulled his own trigger; the werewolf had time for one yelp before it fell.

“Sam!” Jules cried from inside the truck; Ed pinned her with a glare, forcing her to stay put.

Spike reached Sam and his rescuer first, pulling the upper man up with a shaky grin. “Sarge, anything I said about you not running fast, I take back,” the tech joked feebly.

“No kidding,” Wordy muttered, hauling Sam to his feet. “Trucks first, then talk,” he added.

“Copy that,” Sarge agreed breathlessly.

The team scrambled into their trucks and away from the bloody, deserted field. A good five kilometers away, they pulled off again, to check themselves and their rescued teammates over. Ed took the chance to check his sword, puzzled when he couldn’t find a single nick or notch in the blade. They were almost done when the sound of a car’s engine brought them all around, peering at the arriving vehicle in both confusion and concern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the end of the interlude is almost upon us. Tomorrow, I fly to Houston for onboarding, coming back on Friday (don't worry, the chapter will be up as per usual.) Then we start driving to...probably Plano, but really, could be _anywhere_. A small chance, but still a chance. Please pray for me, it's the one constant in my life right now.


	5. War of the Worlds

Roy was less than pleased when he and Giles were assigned to help with defending the British Embassy from the expected werewolf attack. _He_ wasn’t a member of Team One, what on Earth did the wizards think he could do that they couldn’t? Giles shook his head when Roy asked him that in an undertone. “Right now, they really don’t get that,” Giles admitted, his voice just as low as Roy’s. “Most of them see Team One and they think _every_ tech cop is just like them. Especially the patrol Aurors, they aren’t high enough up to interact with the tech world all that much.”

Roy arched a brow. “And the higher ups interact so much more?” he questioned pointedly, casting an even more pointed look at Giles’ sidearm holster…the first _legal_ gun carried by a wizard _ever_.

“Well…more than the patrol Aurors at any rate,” Giles countered, with a wry look at his techie partner.

Roy huffed a sigh, leaning back against the wall and looking out at the setting sun. “Think they’re okay?”

Giles considered, looking out the window himself. He shrugged, unwilling to offer false hope to his partner. “Hope so,” was all he could really think to say.

While Roy was unhappy with the answer, he fell silent, watching out the window and thinking hard to himself. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Giles drawled.

“How come those werewolves were so afraid to meet with us? Or each other?”

When Giles shifted uncomfortably, Roy cast him a challenging look. After a moment, Giles sighed to himself. “It’s against the law for werewolf pack leaders to meet like that. It’s supposed to be a deterrent against the packs uniting to attack us, especially after the chaos Grayback’s pack caused during the Wizarding Wars.”

“Wasn’t just them,” Roy pointed out.

A shrug. “No, but werewolves…everyone’s afraid of them, so it’s a lot easier to get laws passed to keep your average witch or wizard safe from them. Not so easy to crack down on pureblood privilege, so it’s usually just the Dark Creatures that get targeted after the fighting stops.” Giles was silent a second. “But all that really does is make the werewolves go even further underground…if Madame Locksley knew the pack leaders met at SRU Headquarters, she’d come down on me and Parker like a ten-ton Abraxan.”

“No wonder that lady was suspicious when we showed up,” Roy whispered, earning a nod from his magical partner. “You weren’t kidding about the Auror Division going after the whole pack of rogues, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t. And the other packs might end up in hot water, too, even though they tried to help us. Merlin help us all if Team One can’t save Young and Callaghan.”

Though the two men had kept their voices low, they’d attracted attention nonetheless, for a woman seemed to appear out of nowhere; Roy jerked and nearly pulled his weapon on her. Blonde hair in an elaborate array of curls framed a face with green eyes, rhinestone studded glasses, and a heavy jaw with a rather simpering smile. Her eyes glinted with both interest and a touch of predatory malice; already she was drawing an acid-green quill and sheaf of parchment from her crocodile skin bag, the color of the bag and quill setting off her magenta green-trimmed robes.

“Skeeter,” Giles rumbled, his distaste for the woman obvious. “You know that quill of yours is illegal in this country without a signed contract beforehand…and funnily enough, I don’t remember signing any contract.”

“Auror Onasi, how lovely to see that your memory is as keen as ever,” Skeeter snipped, pouting as she slid the acid-green quill away. “Surely two _fine_ Aurors such as yourselves would be amenable to a few small, trifling questions?” She batted her eyes at Roy, who did his best to contain his shudder; she reminded him of a girlfriend he’d had back in high school…a gossip of the worst kind who’d spread every last secret he’d told her all _over_ the school.

“Ask then leave,” Giles snapped back, “We _do_ have a reliable report of a potential attack on this Embassy tonight and we don’t need to be coddling gossip columnists when the fighting starts.”

Skeeter’s eyes flashed. “Fine,” she bit out. “Straight to the point then, since you two are _so very_ busy. I’m looking for the new Head of the House of Lestrange and my information suggests that he works with _you_ , Auror Onasi.”

Onasi gawped, jaw hanging open for several moments. Then he recovered himself enough to sneer, “The day I end up working with a _Lestrange_ is the day I turn in my badge, _Miss_ Skeeter! Maybe you should go back to England where you can go back to gossiping about the famous ‘Golden Trio Love Triangle’ you’ve been pushing ever since the end of the Second War.” He smirked at her expression, then his eyes narrowed as the smirk dropped away. “Now. Get. Lost!”

Skeeter was wise enough to retreat, though she cast Giles a near-lethal glare as she went. Roy whistled low, drawing another brief smirk and even briefer chuckle from his partner, and shifted to watch out the nearby window again. The two men fell silent again, each of them thinking about the situation they’d found themselves in as the sun vanished below the horizon. When the moon peeked out, Roy frowned again. “Shouldn’t they be here by now?”

Giles pushed himself forward, off the wall, and looked over Roy’s shoulder out the window. “You’d think so,” he mused to himself. “But maybe they’re using a Portkey and set it to trigger after they transform.” At Roy’s startled look, Giles hiked one shoulder. “Werewolves can’t control themselves once they transform. Grayback used to position himself right before the moon rose, just so he could be sure that he’d actually get his targets.” A visible shudder worked its way down Giles’ back. “A transformed werewolf would rip their own mother to shreds if they could.”

Abruptly, the wizard drew his wand; Roy pulled his gun, chambering a round and assuming his firing stance. The two positioned themselves, ready for action, but silence rang around them. Roy stole another look out the window. The moon was completely above the horizon, gleaming in the night sky. Minutes ticked by, with no sound, no howls, and no movement.

Roy shifted, worry for his brother breaking through more and more the longer his phone remained silent. “We should go help them,” he said suddenly. “You could get us there, right?”

Giles scowled at the idea of going anywhere _near_ a pack of ravening werewolves, but, at the look in his partner’s eyes, worried and just a little pleading, he gave in with a sigh. “Okay, let’s go,” he agreed with an expression that said this was against his better judgment.

* * * * *

Madame Locksley let them go, agreeing with Onasi’s hastily formulated argument that Team One should have checked in by now and might need backup. The two men left the Embassy, wary of attack as they moved through the darkness. But there was nothing save the usual nighttime sounds, crickets buzzing, fireflies dancing to and fro, and the whisper of the wind through the grass.

Roy took the lead, eager to get to his car and start the trek to Team One. The detective’s footsteps slowed as an odd whistling sound filled the air. Roy twisted around, searching for the source of the sound and confused when the whistling turned to a high-pitched mechanical whine. A faint roaring sound joined the mechanical whine and Roy looked up. Gray eyes widened in horror and Roy grabbed Giles by the arm, hauling the other man with him as he raced for a nearby rock. The rock wasn’t all that tall, but Roy didn’t care…it was tall enough. The detective dragged the Auror down with him as he dove behind the rock, ducking for cover as he hadn’t done since the Sunrise Motel.

The explosion roared like nothing Roy had ever heard before, not from a movie and not on the job. A second explosion followed the first, a shockwave of sound and thunder that pounded at both men, echoing into the night. Debris rained down around them, deflected by Onasi’s hasty shield spell. Around them, the grass lit, fire glowing an instant before going out. Roy’s ears rang as he pushed himself up, staring in shock at the building – or rather, what was _left_ of it. Fire raged in the shell, licking at the jutting timbers and jagged walls. Onasi’s cry of denial and horror had a hollow sound to it, as if Roy was hearing it from a distance instead of from right next to his magical partner. The cop blinked hard, gagging as he realized no one inside the building had survived. But another thought made him swallow back the bile and grab his partner’s arm again; Roy dragged them both through the gateway, his face pale and drawn.

“What the _hell_ was that?” Giles screeched as soon as they were through. “You knew, didn’t you? You were dragging me to cover like you _knew_ that would happen!”

Roy whirled on his partner, slamming the other man into the wall, his eyes wild. “I heard it coming!” he yelled back. “And I saw it! Just for a second, coming from the sky!”

“What, can’t take the idea of magic being real?” Giles spat, unappeased. “Is that it? Is that why you _really_ wanted to leave? I should’ve known better…I should’ve known…”

“You think I’d’ve been anywhere _near_ that building if I knew someone was gonna drop a _missile_ on it?!?” Roy screeched. “We got bigger problems, so stow the ‘I-don’t-trust-anyone’ routine, okay? That was a _missile_ ; someone really, really high up had to order that. In the _military_ , ‘cause no _way_ cops have missiles lying around.”

Giles panted, his eyes flashing, but as he drew breath to spit his next accusation, Roy’s phone rang. Roy released his erstwhile partner, stepped back, and answered with a brisk, “Detective Lane speaking.”

“Lane? Get your rear in here, we need all hands on deck,” Sergeant Gamboli ordered roughly.

“Sir?” Roy questioned in confusion. “We’re kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Yeah, well, whatever it is, forget it. Some magical _freaks_ just massacred everyone at the British Embassy; we’re going after ‘em.”

“ _What?_ ” Roy blurted, his eyes wide as he whirled away from Onasi and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “What’s that about magic, sir? And who attacked the British Embassy?”

Behind him, Giles gasped in shock, putting the horrid sequence together. “Yeah, you heard me, Lane,” Gamboli confirmed. “Now, I know it’s a shock…was a shock to me, too, when the word came down, but magic is real. Some of these psychos took it into their heads to attack the British Embassy…killed _everyone_ , Roy, even the Ambassador’s wife and kids. It’s a right mess in there. We’ve got a whole community of these magical freaks right here in Toronto. Well, not any more we won’t. Get yourself and Onasi in here, on the double.”

Roy swallowed hard. In his mind’s eye, he saw the eager young patrol Aurors, putting their lives on the line to protect innocents from a pack of werewolves, saw the older, wiser Aurors talking sense into the rookies, keeping them in line, just like any veteran cop would. And the children…the magical British Ambassador had had three little kids of his own, the oldest all of nine years old. All dead now, all dead because a group of monsters had exposed their world to _his_ world and _his_ world had reacted by lashing out and targeting people who’d never done them any harm.

“Sorry, sir,” he said bluntly, “I don’t do genocide.” Without waiting for a reply, he hung up. Ashamed, he turned towards Giles. “They attacked the _non-magical_ British Embassy,” he rasped. “Everyone knows about your world now, Giles… _everyone_.” Fear shone in Roy’s eyes as he met Giles’ horrified ones. “They’re…they’re gonna destroy your world, burn it to the ground.” Roy dropped his gaze. “You gotta go, Giles. Warn as many people as you can, get your family out of Toronto.”

“And what will you do?” Giles questioned.

“I’m going after Team One…someone has to tell them what just happened.”

Giles looked down, clearly fighting with himself. When he looked back up, Roy was already halfway down the street to his car. The Auror fought with himself a moment longer, then he yanked his Auror trenchcoat off, balling it up and racing after his…his partner. He reached the car just as Roy pulled the driver door open and yanked the passenger door open. When Roy stared at him, Giles replied, “I’m coming with you. Someone has to watch your back out there, Lane.”

* * * * *

The brown sedan cut through the night, making much better time than Team One’s trucks had earlier. Roy kept his mouth shut as he drove; the radio was left off after the first ten minutes of media hysteria over the attack on the Embassy and the shocking reveal of _magic_ as something _real_ and not just fantasy. Roy’s phone buzzed until Roy tossed it over to Giles and demanded, “Turn that off, will ya?”

The Auror turned the phone off quite willingly; he wanted _no_ part of an organized attack on his people. As they drove, he watched Roy, surprised by his partner’s decision. Essentially, Roy had just turned against his superior and his world in favor of the magical one. “Why?” he asked without thinking.

Roy glanced over. “I’m a cop,” he replied. “If you were told to attack random innocent people on the street, would you do it?”

“No,” Giles snapped.

“Same thing,” Roy announced flatly. “They’re wrong…it’s like killing an entire family, just because they’ve got a gang member for a son.” He shrugged at Giles’ arched brows. “Can’t think of anything better right now, sorry.” Silence hung for a minute more, then Roy requested, “Stay quiet, I need to concentrate.”

Giles stuffed his questions down as Roy turned onto a old, battered dirt road. The sedan slowed to a crawl, Roy flicking the car’s high beams on as he navigated the poorly maintained road in pitch black. A flash of headlights ahead made Roy flick the high beams back off and both men breathed out in relief when they spotted Team One by their trucks, _all_ of them, looking curiously towards the car.

Roy pulled up, as close to the trucks as he could get, and turned the car off, clambering out; Giles did the same. “Roy?” Ed called, confusion in his eyes and voice.

“Ed, it’s over,” Roy called back, hugging himself a little as the consequences finally started sinking in. “The weres…they attacked _our_ Embassy.”

“Dear God,” Parker breathed, horror in his eyes. “They wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

Roy swallowed hard, then forced the next part out. “We dropped a missile on the magical Embassy.”

“ _WHAT?!?_ ” came from the entire team.

“It’s true,” Giles confirmed. “We were there, but-but Roy wanted to come and help…we were walking towards the gateway when that… _thing_ …hit.” Anguish rang in his voice; grief was writ large on his face. He started to tremble and only Wordy and Sam’s quick moves and actions kept him from collapsing. Softly, he whimpered, “They’re dead…oh, Merlin, they’re all dead.” The Auror buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as Wordy and Sam traded grim looks and shifted to better support him.

Ed cast a look at Roy, who explained, “We’ve been moving ever since then. My Sergeant called…sounds like the entire police force is mobilizing to take down as much of the magical world as they can.”

“War,” Giles managed from his position between Wordy and Sam. His face was wet with tears and grief was only just sinking in, but he wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t think. “A war between worlds. And thousands will die before it’s all over, on both sides.”

“Not thousands,” Parker disagreed, pale in the light of the full moon above them.

His team, Roy, and Giles looked at him in confusion; Parker drew a deep breath, then said it.

“Millions.”

 

_~ Ad Alia_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued... On the RL front, it turns out I'm _not_ going to Plano, I'm going to Dallas. Although, technically, Plano is a suburb of Dallas. *sigh* I still have to figure quite a few things out, so please, please, _please_ keep praying for me. Pray that God would grant me perseverance and wisdom as I continue this difficult period of transition. And, if you feel so inclined, please comment as well. Prayers and comments are pure gold to me and rare as diamonds.
> 
> Our next story, "West of the Moon", will kick off on Tuesday, June 12th, 2018. See you on the battlefield!

**Author's Note:**

> On a RL note: I have an offer letter! I'll be moving to Texas, so, yeah, definitely not going home, which is sad, but, well, that's kinda what I signed on for. But Texas! Definitely a good place to go, eh? We're still waiting, though...things are...interesting, to say the least. We still officially start the 31st, but our onboarding date is...to be determined. *sigh*
> 
> Thank you for all your prayers and support thus far. Please keep praying, I've still got a ways to go. I don't know which company I'll be ultimately working for (my new employer hires us out as consultants) and although I have a city name, that could change and well, it's hard to look for an apartment when you don't know where you'll be working.
> 
> Praise to God for giving us more information and also Praise to Him that I've still been hanging onto my COBRA from Micro Center...means I don't have to get a new COBRA since I'll be losing current company's health benefits on the 31st. He is Good and He has provided thus far: I believe, with all my heart, that He will not let me fall now.
> 
> Also, in celebration of the offer letter, I've posted a new Side Story. Go check it out, I hope you'll get a chuckle out of it.
> 
> Friday update: I'm going _home!_ Hallelujah, Praise the Lord, I'm going _home!_ Well, I'll still be moving to Texas, but for now: Homeward Bound and not even glancing back.


End file.
